


Every Star In The Sky

by AxeMeAboutAxinomancy



Series: Air Supply [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean's Room, Humor, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy/pseuds/AxeMeAboutAxinomancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is easily shocked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Star In The Sky

**Author's Note:**

> And every star in the sky is taking aim at  
> Your eyes like a spotlight - AIR SUPPLY

Dean is easily shocked.

Sam has known this a long time, of course, but now - It's fun. It's fun to take advantage of it when, instead of it ending up in Dean freaking out or storming off, or both, now it ends in finding out that more often than not, 'shocked' actually means 'turned on.' Dean might go quiet and make that difficult face, but his cock is proud and happy to speak for him and has helped bypass a lot of awkwardness already.

Sam likes to be organized. He keeps lists of things in his head.

**1) Dean will not turn the lights on.**

Approaching him in daylight is like trying to hunt a unicorn. Sam has to think of something so worth seeing that Dean will let himself be looked at (which is the real issue, Sam thinks).

Sam wants to see Dean's eyes, but he can't say that, the self consciousness levels could get near fatal. So he has to present it a different way.

"I want to see your cock when I suck it."

Dean does not just drop his beer. It sails out of his hand like it's trying to jump clear. Sam keeps his own face free of the grin that is trying to form, but it takes a lot of effort. He looks at Dean with the wide-eyed, expectant look he's used on Dean all his life.

"Uh," says Dean.

Sam shrugs and looks away, releasing him for now, to clean up the beer. "Well, just think about it."

And he does think about it. Because they haven't done that yet. All they've done so far is kiss and touch, though both of those really are awesome. Dean is _too_ good at kissing. It should be used as a weapon.

Well. No, it shouldn't.

That night, Dean does let him leave the lights on. However:

**2) Dean will not take his hands off his face.**

"C'mon, Dean." Sam is sprawled on top of him, enjoying the view. But all he can see of Dean's eyes is the back of his hand covering them.

"No."

"You're being a baby." Sam pinches Dean's nipple, hoping to startle him into uncovering. No good. Dean reacts, but he doesn't take his hand down.

"Shut up. I just don't want to."

"Okay," Sam shrugs, leans down and bites the other nipple. Dean squirms.

Of course he wants to look. Of course he thinks he can't. It's been like that - maybe not their whole lives. But for a long time of not seeing, of pretending not to see. There's plenty of reasons for Dean to have kept this behind such strong walls for so many years. He would have kept it there all his life, Sam thinks, if Sam hadn't pushed. Dean could never have given himself permission. He just couldn't have done it. Dean thinks he made the first move that first night, but Sam thinks Sam did.

None of it could ever have happened while Dad was alive. Dean would have looked like a guilty dog and Dad would have beaten him like one. No question.

Dad's gone, though. And they're here. They've been torn apart two too many times for Sam. He's not letting go of this now. And that means making it easier for Dean in ways Dean doesn't necessarily see.

"I could so totally mess with you," Sam tells him. "But I'm not going to. You'll look when you're ready. You wanna be blindfolded? Then you could use your hands."

Dean was really not expecting that. Sam's eye travels down his body and he realizes Dean kind of likes that idea.

Didn't somebody say once, or imply once, that Dean liked being tied up? Years ago, now, but somebody did say it, and Dean hadn't scoffed or said anything.

"Or maybe," Sam goes on in a thoughtful tone, "I should tie your hands down, so you can't use them at all."

" _Sam_ ," Dean whispers, shocked.

"Is that a yes?" says Sam. "It sounds kind of like a yes."

Dean moves his fingers so that one eye peeks out, for a moment.

"I'll be right back," says Sam.

**3) Dean likes all kinds of stuff he won't admit to.**

Sure, he admits without shame to watching hentai, but if one looks closely at what _exactly_ Dean watches, there's a definite lack of tentacle monsters. Sam sits with his laptop one day by himself and tries various random letters in the address bar, looking through the autocompleted URLs previously visited. (Dean does try to clear the regular browser history, but apparently doesn't know about the autocomplete part.)

Sam is easily able to understand the occasional oddball item that turns up in the porn site URLs. When there's only one, say, donkey show in there, it's safe to assume Dean just wanted to see it for a second, and knowing him, probably closed it right away, maybe even before anything mind-scarring had actually happened. And he might have wanted a look at other things just for their WTF value, when drinking. ("Huh?? ...What the hell." Click. "Augh!")

But when there's multiple links on the same theme, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. No, there isn't any gay porn, _exactly_. But there's... edge case stuff. Sam's no expert of course, but he feels sure that there really are more _cocks_ in Dean's porn than in the average guy's porn. The anime girls grow them and wield them on each other and sometimes on men. And there's one lone video that would go under the category of Gay for sure, if it weren't an outlier, and if it didn't have the potential WTF value of showing a guy sucking his own cock. Sam can imagine Dean appreciating this idea. So, like, cocks are okay if cartoon girls have them, or if it's your own in your mouth. Typical Dean.

It also looks as though Dean likes cute cat videos, but on second thought, that has to have been Cas. Those have a theme too: a cat being best friends with some other kind of animal. A dog or ferret or rabbit or bird or even a bear, any other kind of animal snuggling up with a cat. And there's the one with the reunited goat and pony friends, but even Sam has seen that one, that might be his own visited link.

Sam wonders what Cas will be able to perceive next time they see him. Or more to the point, when he sees them. Will he... _know?_ Will it bother him? It is, technically, a sin.

Sam doesn't care about that anymore. But an angel might.

And Cas aside, speaking of sin, what about Crowley? He would have used this against them if he'd suspected it was possible. Surely. And now it's a fact. If it's a sin, wouldn't the King of Hell be happy about it, or would his obvious crush on Dean outweigh getting the souls?

These are the kinds of questions Sam keeps to himself.

**4) Dean likes Air Supply and many other embarrassing things that he _does_ admit to.**

One time in the car, late at night, there'd been a radio station playing 'twofers', and Sam had pretended to be asleep while Dean rocked out to not one but two Air Supply songs. Really _long_ Air Supply songs.

Sam had been watching through his eyelashes while Dean heard what was starting to play and he sat up straighter as he drove. He glanced aside toward Sam, perceived him apparently asleep, and settled in to enjoy himself. He only lip synched for a while, but eventually he did sing a little. Mostly quietly. He couldn't resist his favorite lines. _Please love me or I'll be gone_ , Sam had known about that one. But also there was _And every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes like a spotlight._ He sang the hell out of that line, and then he remembered Sam beside him and broke off for about half a line, but when Sam stayed still, he resumed singing until it was time for the guitar solo, nodding his head as if granting his approval.

Dean also likes Doctor Sexy, and has missed him since the show was cancelled a couple of years ago. It doesn't even seem to be in syndication. Sam hasn't forgotten about it and has a plan. He just needs to surreptitiously get some cowboy boots in his size.

**5) Dean will do practically anything for Sam, unless he thinks it's for his own benefit.**

This one, you don't need to be a shrink to know: Dean is fucked up. He's all twisted around on some things. Sam has to manipulate him a lot. But he does it lawfully, the same as looking at the autocomplete URLs on his own laptop.

Sam can't even imagine what his own mother would really have been like. He's seen her, yes, and talked to her, but not as her child, her little boy over the years like Dean had at least a taste of. But he's sure that, in the course of time, she would have asked Sam to look out for Dean, too.

Not in this way of course.

Sam is very good at finding ways to give Dean what he wants by spinning it as what Sam wants. - He does want it, but he'd have been nearly as happy if they never moved on from touch, if only he could see Dean's eyes while they did it.

Since Dean is a doofus about this, they'll have to do it the complicated way.

Sam comes back to Dean's room with some ¾-inch cotton rope.

Dean is sitting up, and has pulled the covers up to his waist. He sees Sam standing naked in the doorway, and his eyes drop to the loops of rope dangling from his hand.

Look at that blush. Sam feels very cheerful about his idea. The more shocked Dean looks, the more of a giant hard-on he's got under those covers. Sam looks at Dean calmly, holding the rope.

"You know what to say, right?" Sam asks quietly. "If it's not okay. If anything's not okay. What to say if you have to bail out." He deliberately doesn't say _safeword_. It's better sometimes to spell it out with Dean, to be sure he's listening.

Dean glances up at Sam's face, visibly (and audibly) swallows, and nods very slightly.

Sam smiles. That was as good as a _Yes, Sam, I'll say 'Poughkeepsie' if you freak me out, so tie me up already._

Dean's bed has a solid headboard, so Sam passes the rope behind it, binding Dean's wrists so that his arms are spread above his head. Dean blinks up at him. His eyes are wide. His pupils are big, ringed with dark green. His face is flushed.

Sam's instinct is to say _Is this okay?_ or _Are you okay?_ Instead he says, "Move your fingers."

Dean gapes at him in confusion. Sam says patiently, "To check your circulation isn't being cut off. C'mon, wiggle."

Dean flexes both hands, wiggles his fingers.

"Good," says Sam, letting his voice drop down deep as it goes, and Dean shivers.

"Are you gonna…" Dean says, barely louder than a mutter, "...blindfold?"

"You can keep your eyes shut, if you don't want to see."

Dean stares at him in dismay.

"Right?" says Sam, with a smile. Dean's head is on his single pillow, slightly elevated. When Sam reaches down and yanks the covers off Dean's southern hemisphere, Dean squinches his eyes tight shut.

Sam experiences a moment of double focus. It's not Dean on the bed, but himself. Lucifer stands here, looking him over, deciding who to be today. With that weary little smile on his face.

 _No. That's not what's happening._ He's had to learn to say that to himself, over and over in the past few years. These moments have been happening less and less often with time, but they're unexpected and powerful.

 _That's not what's happening. See what really is._ Dean is on the bed, eyes shut in cartoonish modesty. His arms are stretched wide and the rope (which is new) is snow white against his skin.

He's completely naked. And he's breathing hard, keyed up. Sam watches him flex his arms, as if experimentally. He hears the slight creaking of the cotton rope.

 _This is what's happening._ He feels his normal sense of self creeping back. _It's a game. A game for Dean. A game with Dean._

Sam climbs onto the bed. Dean turns his head a little, as though trying to track him, though he ought to be able to feel where Sam is from the movement of the bed. - Oh. Right. Memory foam.

So he moves quietly. Dean has his legs together (for now) and Sam straddles him, hanging over him on hands and knees. Dean knows he's there, of course, but the quiet unnerves him. He licks his lips.

Sam licks Dean's lips, too, right after him. Dean jolts (it _is_ a weird thing to do) and the ropes creak again.

Sam sits down on Dean's thighs and angles himself so that his cock and Dean's are side by side. He has to help his down with his hand, it's so hard it wants to slap against his belly.

Dean is breathing hard. Sam says conversationally, "You know? I think we're almost exactly the same size."

"No we're not," mutters Dean.

"Dude. I am looking right at them. Side by side. I don't think I could pick the right one out of a lineup. Total family resemblance here."

Dean _squirms_. Yes, Sam meant to do that. He traces his fingertip along Dean's shaft. The ropes creak even louder.

"Look, if you don't believe me."

Dean makes a frustrated noise. Doesn't look.

Sam sighs very loudly. At the same time he moves back, pushing his knees between Dean's legs, making him open. Dean doesn't protest this move at all. Sam can see him swallow, his throat moving, his lips pressed together. His eyelashes are fluttering, ever so slightly, against his cheeks.

He takes hold of Dean's cock and strokes it boldly and says, still in that conversational tone, "It isn't any more sinful if you look. It isn't any less sinful if you don't."

Dean's eyebrows work. He wants to argue with this but he hasn't thought of how yet.

Sam says, "Because it isn't sinful, Dean. It's just you and me."

"Doesn't even make sense," Dean is complaining, but there's a glimmer through the lashes now. He's peeking.

When he realizes Sam knows he's doing it, he shuts his eyes tight again. But Sam smiles. That first peek was a victory. He leans down and down until he's right over Dean's cock as it stands up in his fist. His mouth right over the head. He breathes, "Dean." More felt than heard, his hot breath on that sensitive flesh. Dean feels it. He gasps a little, his arms working at the ropes.

Sam takes a chance. "Dean," he says, sharply. Commandingly. _"Look at me."_

He doesn't obey instantly. It's not a reflex. Sam can see Dean choose to obey. That's good. Dean opens his eyes and looks.

His eyes are wide, teeth gritted, his eyebrows… It looks so much like distress/fear/anguish that it gives Sam pause. Was it the wrong thing? Did it sound too much like - ? But then Dean licks his lips and Sam sees it's all right. This is a sex face, the first one he's had a chance to see. Sam smiles at it, and closes his lips and tongue around the head of Dean's cock.

Sam did do research, earlier. He knows what he likes from his end of course, but he needs tips, because he's never chosen to do this before and he doesn't plan on ever doing it for anyone else. He wants to do it right for Dean, though, and the internet is ready and willing to give advice on this topic (from a _private_ browser window.)

He didn't expect he'd like it.

He didn't expect that he'd look into Dean's eyes and swallow his cock down till it choked him, because he was that hungry for it. Dean shouts, Sam's name and a jumble of swear words.

But the first taste of him is irresistible, perfect, and oh, the look on Dean's face, it's perfect, he's perfect. This is not some foreign thing in Sam's mouth, this is Dean's, this is Dean.

He pulls off it and smiles at Dean. "Should I stop? I'm probably not any good at this."

"SAM," Dean shouts at him. "YOU PUT THAT BACK IN YOUR MOUTH RIGHT NOW," and when Sam does, he groans, his head rocking back and forth on the pillow.

But his eyes are still open. Dean lifts up his head to stare wild eyed down his body at Sam. He bites his lips. Sam has seen that before. That's Dean trying to hold something back.

He pulls up again. "Say it."

"What?"

"Whatever's on the tip of your tongue. Spit it out. Say it." He doesn't add the threat 'or I'll stop.' He doesn't want to stop. Speaking of the tip of the tongue, Sam passes his tongue over the head, poking wetly at the slit, rewarded by a bead of precum welling up. It tastes good. Dean tastes good.

Dean makes a strangled noise. He's sweating, and starting to look a little crazed by all the interruptions. It's his own fault, of course. If he'd just opened his eyes in the first place, he wouldn't be tied up, and at Sam's mercy.

Sam's glad he _was_ such a baby about it, in hindsight. Dean really does like being tied up. What else might he like? He probably doesn't even know, Sam knows that, that's one of the exciting things about it. Finding out.

Dean mutters something.

"What was that? Sorry, you'll have to speak up."

"JESUS FUCK," Dean finally bursts out. _Here it comes_ , thinks Sam with an inward smile. All those pent-up words. He rubs Dean's cock against his tongue while he listens.

Again, Sam likes to be organized. So he notices which thing Dean says most often: 'suck' is the runaway leader for sure. _Suck it, suck me, suck that cock._

Next is 'Sam' and 'Sammy' (which Sam considers interchangeable, though Dean probably doesn't.) Closely followed by 'please.'

Sam is already doing it, but Dean continues to beg. He's finding out just how much of it he can take before his throat starts to spasm (a lot of it, but not all) when he hears Dean say,

"You'll fuck me, Sammy? Please," and Sam is so surprised he lifts his head and stares at Dean.

Dean seems to take Sam's surprise as some kind of rebuke. He catches his breath and turns his head to the side. He was already flushed, but now he looks - ashamed. Wishing he'd never said it.

"Yes," Sam says, firmly, his brain lurching back into gear. "Fuck yes, Dean, _yes_."

Dean looks at him sideways. Cautious. But not lost to shame. Whatever he sees in Sam's face reassures him enough to come back to center.

"First though? you're gonna come in my mouth," Sam tells him.

Dean gulps and says, hoarsely, humbly, "Okay."

For that he is _so_ gonna get teased later. A _lot._ 'Okay!' But Sam is happy to save that for later. Right now there's this, Dean's captive pleasure in Sam's hands and mouth. He's using both hands now, one on the shaft and one cupping Dean's balls, hot and tight.

Dean moans and spreads his legs a lot wider than he has to, the rope creaking as though it's going to snap. He's whimpering. And he's biting his lips again.

Sam has a light bulb moment. He slips a finger into his mouth to get it wet.

Dean starts to come the moment Sam's finger breaches him. (He's so hot inside, burning hot, burning tight.) "Sam! Fffuck! S - " He can't finish saying Sam's name, he's writhing, head tipped back, his bound hands flying open as though to catch himself falling.

Dean's orgasm occupies every part of Sam's attention, his cock is even thicker and it pulses hard against his tongue, while Dean's ass clenches around Sam's finger to the same rhythm. And Dean _yells_ , full throat like his voice is being yanked out of him, the pitch going up and up until his voice breaks under it.

Whoa that is _bitter_. Precum and cum do not taste the same at all. Sam chokes a little. Sam noticed this topic while he was researching, but it's much more important than he had assumed. Still. Worth it. More than worth it. Look at Dean, swooning now on his bed, the look on his face. He's never had anything so amazing.

And they're so not done.

Sam swallows, clears his throat. Water is needed. "Be right back," he says hoarsely.

When he gets back, glass in hand, Dean gives him a sleepy-eyed grin.

"Sorry," he says, and shrugs as best he can with his arms still spread out. "Carnivore."

"Yeah, I know. I'm gonna make you drink pineapple juice at least."

The grin widens. "Rhonda Hurley made me drink like a gallon of that shit. Then she just about sucked my dick right offa me."

"Good thing she didn't."

Sam had been going to ask Dean if he was okay. But clearly, he's okay.

"You still want me to fuck you?" says Sam, maybe a little more harshly than intended, because he'd rather Dean stop thinking about Rhonda Hurley now.

It does wipe the smile off Dean's face, but in a good way. He nods, eyes big on Sam's.

"Want your hands back?"

Dean pulls at the ropes a little, testing. Then slowly, shakes his head No.

"We need lube," Sam starts to turn back to go out of the room again, but Dean says, "Got some."

"Really?" Sam lifts his eyebrows.

Dean squirms a little. "Desk. Bottom right drawer."

Sam goes to get it, and takes his time about it, because Dean embarrassed is actually a huge provocation and Sam hasn't come yet. He can be patient, but he's been patient for some time now.

"What do you use it for, Dean?" he muses as he gets out the little bottle of liquid K-Y, two-thirds full.

"Jerk off with it," Dean mutters, in a way that makes it obvious that's not the only or maybe even the primary thing it's for.

"And?"

Dean looks at him, then his gaze skates away. He really is embarrassed. "Finger myself," he finally says, when it becomes clear that Sam is going to wait for an answer.

"Good," Sam says, and Dean turns a curious eye toward him even as he expects to be mocked. "You know why that's good? Cause that's fucking hot. That's why. Oh, no wonder you were so happy to get your own room."

"That's not the _only_ reason. But yeah."

Sam knows. Dean wanted 'a place for his stuff', as George Carlin called a home, 'a pile of stuff with a lid on it.' Not that he had that much stuff. His weapons. His picture of Mom and him together. His records. His bed that he'd made such a fuss over. And, apparently, his lube.

He gives Dean some of the water from the glass he brought, sets it down and opens the bottle of lube.

Dean just came, but he's still at least half hard, and there's nothing sleepy about his gaze as he watches Sam pour lube on his fingers. Dean licks his lips: Sam's eyes drop to Dean's mouth and he has to take a deep breath. Some other time for that, but God. _Soon_.

Then he settles himself between Dean's legs and reaches down between them.

Preparing Dean's ass is pretty much its own sex act. He _loves_ it. Sam marvels at how much freedom tying Dean's hands up gives him. He can't ever have said the word _yes_ this many times in his life.

"Sam," he pleads, "that's enough, come on. Come on."

"Come on what?" Sam intends it as a joke but Dean doesn't seem to be able to pay attention to that right now.

"Fuck me!"

"You're pretty bossy for a tied-up guy."

"Please fuck me!"

Sam is reaching for the lube already. Instead of warming it up for himself he slathers it on as it is, cold against his superheated flesh.

"Okay, Dean." He's trembling. It's going to take a terrible effort not to just come immediately the way Dean had when he - Better not think about that right this moment. He's trying _not_ to go off.

Dead puppies, old nuns. Baseball? Huh. Baseball works better for Sam than either of the others. Better not tell Dean that.

Dean is so hot inside. He'd felt that with his fingers, but it's a pretty different experience with his penis. So hot, so crushingly _tight_ , Sam hisses in a breath and lets it out as slow as he can.

"Breathe," he pleads with Dean. "Let me in."

That's the right way to put it. Dean, eyes shut, gasps a deep breath in, lets it out trembling. When he exhales, he relaxes a tiny fraction. He does it again. He lets Sam in.

All the way in, he has to stop, shaking. It's intense, the grip of him, the silky heat inside him. Dean's legs are around his back.

He gasps, "Dean."

And here, when he should be making sure Dean is okay, Dean whispers, "It's okay, you're okay."

"Fucking love you," Sam groans.

"Try loving fucking me," says Dean, panting, and kicks at Sam's butt with his heels.

That's _it._ That is just fucking _it_.

Dean tells him afterwards that at this point, Sam goes "RAHRRRR!" and 'pulls a Sasquatch.' Sam is fairly sure he didn't make that noise, but he'll accept the rest if by 'pull a Sasquatch' Dean means 'fucks him into the mattress in a way memory foam will never forget.' Not to mention the sides of the headboard rubbed by ropes digging in. The bed will tell the tale, in short.

What Sam remembers later is Dean howling, his voice echoing against the walls of the room, his body flexing and arching under Sam's violent strokes. Dean's legs locked desperately around the small of Sam's back. Sobbing and gasping. "Oh God Sam oh my _God_ ," and Sam lifting up just in time to see it: the amazement in Dean's face, his cock jerking and coming untouched on his belly while Dean wails in ecstatic disbelief.

"Sammy," whispers Dean, lifting his eyes to Sam's, his eyes, his _eyes_ _(deep luminous green, and wet, with big dark pupils and the thick fringe of his lashes casting shadows on his face)_ and that's the end of it for Sam. Orgasm pushes right past his control and knocks it over, exploding from the center and putting his nerve tree to the torch. Dean says his name again when Sam pulses inside him, so Sam knows he can feel it. Sam strains against him, shaking with effort, and then collapses.

_Sam._

_**Sam**._

_Sammmmmm_ , and a jolt to Sam's butt: Dean's foot.

Sam realizes where he is. He's on top of Dean, inside Dean. And Dean is laughing at him. This is when Dean says the Sasquatch thing.

"Now cut me loose and get out of the way. Bathroom is mine."

Sam has no argument with that. Dean, released, vanishes through the door at top speed, leaving an afterimage of his pale butt on Sam's retinas.

**6) There comes a point when Dean stops calling it 'his' room.**

In fact, the first time he says 'our room' is in Castiel's hearing, and though Dean catches himself with an obvious _'Oh, shit'_ face, Cas doesn't turn a hair. Sam thinks he just didn't catch it until later.

Dean is telling him, "Yeah, you can stay here, just - " trading a helpless look with Sam, "if you, uh. Hear anything. Don't…"

"I understand. I won't interrupt you."

The look on Dean's face is worth Sam's own discomfort. It's priceless. Even Dean seems to realize this, because he puts his hand over his mouth for a moment. Then, meeting Sam's eye again, he lets it drop.

"Okay. Good," Dean says.

To Sam, Cas says, "May I borrow your laptop?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to TSylvestris for beta reading and good questions. And thanks for always making such a joyful noise when I share a file with you. ♥
> 
> I never intend to make series, but inevitably I write one story and then it leads to another. And, you know, you go to all that trouble to get them together, sometimes you want to hang around with them for a bit. WATCHING :D
> 
> So, there very well may be more in this series, but I don't have specific plans yet. (Just some vague ones about the boots.) I am terrible at responding to comments, I just seize up and don't know what to say - but I do gratefully read them, so it cannot hurt to ask me for something you'd like to see from me. Sometimes it works! 
> 
> Next, I'm already working on a Supernatural/His Dark Materials AU. Supernatural, with daemons. I'm sure others have long since done it, but this one will be mine.
> 
> Oh, the 'goat and pony' (he's a burro, Sam) friends! Even Sam has seen [Mr. G and Jellybean](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bv2OGph5Kec), though he was wrong about one of the species. :)


End file.
